Norma Egan - Massage parlor wife

"Lynn, aren't you ever coming to bed?"

Lynn West, an attractive brunette of thirty-nine, didn't look up from the television set. "Later, Bill," she called to her husband. "I want to finish watching this movie."

Bill flopped down beside her on the couch and glared at the set. "What's so great about it?" he said.

"Ssssh," said Lynn.

She wished he would go away. The movie, a foreign film and relatively uncensored, was really making her horny. The young hero was the kind of lover she fantasized about, absolutely radiating sexuality. She wanted to enjoy it undisturbed, maybe even finger-fuck herself to a climax during one of the love scenes.

She glanced at her husband. At forty Bill was still a very attractive man, tall and muscular, his thick black hair going silver at the temples. He was bright, funny, charming. Yet her cunt didn't get all juicy when she looked at him. Fifteen years was an awfully long time to be married "Honey," said Bill, "you have to get up early."

"Don't remind me," Lynn moaned.

For two weeks she'd been looking for work, pounding the pavements all day. Bill had been laid off from the computer firm several months ago, could find no other job, and now their funds had run out. Lynn had to find work to support them and their teenage daughter, Tina.

It was beginning to look hopeless. Two weeks, and not even the hint of a job. Lynn didn't look forward to tomorrow. She wanted to lose herself in this sexy film, to bring herself off, pretending she was getting fucked by the young hero The couple on the screen were embracing. Lynn watched intently. She could see that they were using their tongues. The young man's hand approached the girl's half-naked tit… Lynn put herself in the girl's place, and she felt hot and wet between the thighs.

"Garbage," said Bill.

"What?" Lynn stirred from her horny fantasy.

"This film is crap," he said. "Pure filth. Why don't you come to bed, Lynn? You need your rest."

"Bill," she said impatiently, "this is my rest. I like to relax and watch TV. If you're tired, go to bed. I'll be all right."

Still he sat there in his pajamas, looking more at her than at the screen. He made her uncomfortable.

"I know something more fun than TV," said Bill.

Lynn reddened. So that was it! He wanted to fuck.

She felt not a glimmer of interest in the idea. She was horny, yes. It seemed like she was horny all the time lately. But not for her husband. Getting fucked by Bill was so goddamn dull. It had been dull for years.

She remembered back to their courtship, how hot they'd been for each other then. She was eighteen, Bill was twenty-five. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. That was why they'd gotten married, in fact-before they went "too far". They were raised in a generation that didn't believe in sex before marriage.

For a few years it had been wonderful. Lynn had never gotten screwed by any other man, so she thought Bill's way was the only way. Years later she began to read about the amazing variety of sexual techniques, and then she knew what she'd been missing. Bill had only one technique-man on top, a minute of humping, and that was it.

Fifteen years had passed since their marriage, and still she hadn't fucked anyone but her husband. She didn't intend to, either, for she loved him and believed in fidelity. But was there any harm in an occasional fantasy?

For the past few years Lynn had taken to daydreaming about other men, bringing herself off with her own fingers frigging her steaming cunt while she fantasized about fucking more exciting lovers. She got a lot more pleasure from that than from getting screwed by her husband. It was too bad, in a way, but at least it kept their marriage together.

"Honey, did you hear me?" Bill was looking at her.

"Hmm?" said Lynn. "Oh, yes."

He laughed, rather bitterly. "You were daydreaming again, Lynn. I asked you to come to bed, to make love. I said it'd be better than this silly TV show. Apparently you weren't listening-or the idea didn't interest you."

Lynn felt guilty. After all, he was her husband, and he'd worked hard for the things they had-a lovely house, two cars, a pretty daughter, a good life. She owed Bill a lot, and she loved him, even though his fucking failed to excite her any more. There was no need to hurt his feelings.

"I'm sorry, darling," she said. "You're right. This show is pretty bad. You go on to bed, and I'll be right there."

"That's more like it." Bill grinned.

He went on down the hall, and Lynn approached the TV to turn it off She lingered there, oogling the half-naked young hero, imagining herself in his arms. She wondered what his cock would be like, how it would feel inside her cunt.

She felt steamy pussy-juice trickling down her inner thighs. God, she was horny. But it wasn't the kind of lust Bill could satisfy. She knew she lusted for novelty, adventure, variety.

"This is insane," Lynn said aloud.

She was living in a supposed age of sexual liberation, where everyone was free to fuck and suck whomever he wanted, however he wanted. Yet she had had only one man in her whole life. She'd seen only one cock, felt only one in her body. It didn't seem fair.

She forced herself to turn off the set and go to the bedroom. Daydreaming wasn't going to solve her problem. Bill was a normal healthy man with normal needs, and he needed her, his wife. It was her duty.

But why couldn't he be more exciting in bed?

Lynn found him tucked comfortably in the king-size bed; with his pajamas still on. Just like always. He liked to be there first, to watch her undress. She smiled at him and began taking off her clothes before the full-length mirror on the closet door.

She couldn't help admiring herself. For a woman of thirty-three, she was in excellent shape. Tall, olive-skinned, with long gleaming brown hair and long shapely legs, Lynn still got admiring glances and whistles on the streets. But only Bill had seen the rest of her, the even better part…

Her tits were larger than average, long olive-skinned melons with pert brown nipples, great fistfuls of soft flesh that nevertheless stood straight and firm. Her outsize tits waved heavily as she removed her bra. In the mirror she could see Bill ogling them.

"Peeping Tom," she teased.

He grinned at her reflection. "You're just as sexy as you were at eighteen, Lynn."

She wished she could say the same of him. She skinned off her panties, caught a glimpse of her neat and dainty beaver, a triangular patch of soft brown curls. She could see Bill looking at that, too. She wished she could feel some excitement for him.

Well, he wouldn't notice if she didn't. Her pussy was steaming hot and well-lubricated from watching that sexy movie. The rest she could fake.

She strode over to the bed, her long full tits bouncing, her slim hips swaying in her naturally sexy walk. Bill ogled her all the way and quickly threw back the covers for her. At the crotch of his pajamas she saw a hard lump. At least he didn't have any trouble getting aroused.

"Ummm. Come here-quick!" he laughed.

She forced herself to smile. She'd hardly gotten into bed before he was grabbing her, pulling her to him. As he kissed her hungrily, she felt the sharp point of his cock-head against her belly.

"Bill," she said, "Couldn't you take off your pajamas? It's not very romantic.."

"Huh? Oh, sure." Obviously it hadn't occurred to him. All he wanted, really, was a cunt, a slippery sheath for his full cock. It didn't matter how she felt.

Resentment boiled inside her. Bill never made any attempt to arouse her. He just grabbed, fucked, and fell off. They might as well have been rabbits-except she somehow imagined that rabbits had more fun.